32kms at Race Tekapo: Defying epilepsy and finding my perfect race

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11 days before I was due to run the 32km event at Race Tekapo, I had a tonic-clonic epileptic seizure 3 km into an easy road run. Although I had been diagnosed epileptic 11 years prior I had not had a seizure in over 4 years and having one whilst running had never happened before. It left me with the question of should I race or not? I didn’t want to risk another seizure by putting my body under too much stress too soon. But I didn’t want to give up doing what I love either.  I agonised over this and my decision swung as frequently and freely as a pendulum between yes and no.

Event day came and I awoke early to beautiful clear skies and bitterly cold air. My friends were still tucked up in our holiday accommodation like any sane person would be, so I walked the ten minutes to a buzzing and vibrant start line alone. 

Lake tekapo at sunrise. Frost covers the ground in front of the lake and there is a pinky orange glow behind the snow capped mountains.

I cannot explain the rate at which my mind whirred and the anguish I was feeling. I was aware that seizures like those I have can become a medical emergency and some would say that I should do everything I can to avoid that risk. All I could think was that running causes stress and stress can cause seizures. But I love to run. Is epilepsy a reason for me to live half a life? I was on the verge of tears and was a ticking time bomb, threatening to burst into a messy, soggy, lump of tears at any moment. Should I race or should I fold?

I stood and looked across the lake as the sun rose behind the mountains, a crisp frost on the grass beneath my feet, and music playing at race village. ‘It’s the final countdown’ was blaring out across the surrounding grounds signaling that start time was close. Somehow I held it together and found myself crossing the start line alongside 138 competitors, tears in my eyes that were fixed firmly on the ground lest the other runners would see my fragile state. I had done it and I was on my way.

We ran those first few kilometres around the edge of the lake and I started to feel like myself. I was in the right place, doing what I loved.  I began to allow the energy and atmosphere of the race to wash over me, drawing positivity from others. Bagpipes played in the background and a small number of very keen supporters cheered us on wrapped up against the freezing temperatures.

We headed towards Mt John, our biggest climb of the race, civilised compared to other South Island mountains but a slog nonetheless. Finally I reached the top and saw spectacular views of clear blue sky, snow capped mountains and the blue, pristine waters of Lake Tekapo.

The next twenty kilometres or so took me over hills, along roads and past beautiful lakes, some of which were reflecting the majestic mountains onto themselves like flawless mirrors. Each aid station made me smile, the crew having dressed up to cheer us on, handing out drinks and snacks to the runners as we came past. I felt so happy and free I decided to share my joy on a Facebook live post, chatting away for a minute or so before discovering that I had no idea how to end the live post and had to ask another competitor. Until that moment I had thought I was pretty Facebook savvy, but no matter, I was having a great time and a small amount of Facebook humiliation was not going to bring me down.

I had given up all attempts at my original plan of slow and easy, I was flying by the seat of my pants and running simply because it was fun. It felt so good to throw all caution to the wind and run my heart out. I knew I could be pushing towards boundaries I didn’t want to cross but at this point I didn’t have much to lose. I needed to test my limits, the geography and excellent organisation of this race offered me a safe place to do so compared to more remote races I was planning in the future.

Vicky Havill is running down a trail, she is holding both thumbs up and smiling, lake tekapo is visible in the background. Another runner runs behind her.

At around 25 km’s the adrenaline I had been riding high on began to fade and the real challenge began. I dug deep and carried on, fatigue in my legs taking its toll.

I tracked around the bottom of Mt John and was rewarded by a teaser of race village across the lake. It looked so close but each step seemed to take me no closer. My legs and lungs were burning and the urge to walk powerful but I had something to prove to myself and to the monster that is epilepsy which resides inside of me, so I kept going. That last kilometre felt like the longest one I had ever run but I kept telling myself that it would end if I just put one foot in front of the other. 

I tried to think of which part of my body felt good, a trick that is used in SAS training according to a motivational book I once read. Concentrating on a part of your body that feels good is supposed to detract your focus from the parts that are in pain. Obviously I am not destined for the SAS because this was not quite the equaliser I was hoping for. 

Then I saw it, right in front of me with spectators lining each side of the chute. I felt a lump rise in my throat and I tried to choke back the sobs as I stumbled across the finish line and had the participants medal placed around my neck. 

A flat calm lake mirrors white snow capped mountains in the background. In the foreground there are two old looking upturned rowing boats on the ground in front of the lake. One is blue and one is dark green

I know now that I was supposed to take part in that race and I am grateful that I could. It was part of my journey back towards my true self and my new normal. It wasn’t a spectacular time in the sense of placings but it was a spectacular time for me, I had totally smashed it, with a time better than I would ever have dared hope for. It wasn’t the furthest I had ever run, nor was the terrain the most technical I had ever had to navigate. But when I crossed the finish line that day I had absolutely no more to give, and for that I declare it my perfect race. 

Find out more and enter Race Tekapo here:

https://racetekapo.com/

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About the dreaded runner

Hi, I’m Vicky Havill AKA the Dreaded Runner. A woman of many endevours, mother, writer, trail runner, ultra runner and epileptic. 

This blog is all about how being the best that we can be is not about tapping into natural talents. Its about tapping in to what makes us happy and leaning into the process of becoming better than we were yesterday, last week or last year. At 30 I couldn’t run around the block. At 37 I completed my first 50km ultra marathon. I found what I loved and despite facing adversities and a diagnosis of epilepsy, here I am still doing what I love. Still consuming my soul food. If you are here because you want to hear that you can accomplish your dreams despite your adversities then you have come to the right place. 

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